Day 7-9
August 11th-13th, 2019
17 miles
The lesson of this stretch has been balancing my backpack.
We break camp at Kearsarge Lakes on our seventh day and hike down the pass to the Onion Valley Trailhead. We arrive a few hours before our shuttle, so we soak our feet and chat with hikers of all kinds as they pass by.
That night, I relish my first actual shower in a week, a delicious beer on tap and a huge helping of bar food. The fresh, crunchy salad makes me especially happy.
We spend much of the next day (our zero day in Independence) napping, sitting in the air conditioned cabin and eating at the local taco truck with huge burritos and mouth-watering chipotle quesadillas.
During this 36-hour town stay, I accumulate a bit of extra food… Fritos, two small bags of cheeze-it crackers, a bag of candy orange slices and bourbon. That’s in addition to the food I actually planned for this resupply.
On the ninth morning, I weigh my gear… my previously sub-30 pound pack weighs in this morning at a back-breaking 35 pounds (sans water weight). In addition to the food, I also have extra sunscreen, carmex to soothe my still-healing sunburn, a metric fuck-ton of bug spray, socks and an extra day of food leftover from last week that I can’t bring myself to toss in the hiker barrels (donated food and other supplies left by hikers for hikers). No wonder holding this pack up feels like a constant sit-up.
Something about carrying everything you need to survive on your back everywhere you go teaches you to let go of excess. Every ounce adds up. Carrying too many clothes or too much food can make for complete misery. This is a lesson I learn all over again as I lug extra consumables over two mountain passes today.
We enjoy a big breakfast at the motel and shuttle over to the Onion Valley Trailhead to re-enter the wilderness.
We hike up the 4-mile, 2500 ft elevation gain Kearsarge pass, a challenging feat for me due to my newly bloated pack weight. I feel like vomiting. It’s a hot, sunny morning, and my pack weighs me down. Stopping for breaks doesn’t help much since carrying the pack still feels like holding a crunch forever.
HP is full speed ahead. He seems a bit frustrated about my slowness, and I don’t blame him. My legs feel like they’re filled with lead. I can’t move at my usual 3+ mph pace this way.
We finally make it over Kearsarge pass and head down the other side to meet back up with the JMT. Then, because we want to just get it over with, we take on Glen Pass.
To be honest, I can’t even fully tell you what it is about Glen Pass that makes it my roughest pass in the High Sierras. It’s not the highest, the longest or the most snowy. But it literally brings me to tears today.
I can’t see the top, so visualizing my goal to the summit is nigh impossible. Every time I turn a bend and think the switchbacks are finally done, a whole new stretch filled with yet more switchbacks and steep steps awaits.
I feel like vomiting or collapsing into a sobbing heap right here on the switchbacks, but I keep soldiering forward. I start counting my steps, each one a step closer to the top. I stumble and waver on my feet and take the smallest of steps forward. I think to myself (in a very Draco Malfoy-esque voice), If I were going any slower, I’d be going backwards.
I can’t remember ever being more tired in my entire life.
I am too exhausted to celebrate when I finally do reach the top, still sobbing a bit. I unceremoniously flip Glen Pass the bird before starting my descent.
Somewhere near Rae Lakes, a mile off the pass, I hear a sound like a velociraptor or a baby cougar caught high in a tree. I hope it’s a bird and move on swiftly.
HP and I find the same camp spot we stayed at last year near the water outlet of lower Rae Lakes. The mosquitoes here are as bad as they’ve been all trip. We enjoy a massive dinner and try to eat as much of the extra food as we can since it won’t fit in our bear barrels. Finally, we admit defeat and give half a bag of Fritos to our very eager neighbors.
I adore this camp spot and the view of Rae Lakes. I stay up to watch the sun set and the full moon rise high in the sky. I finally climb into my tent after counting the stars that come peeking tentatively out one by one to light the night sky.
Day 10
August 14th, 2019
15 miles
As the days stretch on out here, we begin to fall into a daily rhythm.
We wake with the sun between 6-7 AM. Before sitting up, I let the air out of my inflatable pad. I pack everything I can into my backpack and change into my hiking clothes. Once the inside of my tent is cleaned out, I finally emerge into the morning air, putting on my trail runners as I do.
We enjoy a coffee and hot breakfast – no more conserving fuel since we finally got more in the hiker boxes in Independence.
We pack up our bear barrels and tents, then we set off for the day.
We keep a good pace and hike an average of 12-15 miles, usually with one or even two passes to cross. We have a series of hand motions and turns to communicate needs, even when we are too winded to speak. For example, if I stop and turn my left side to HP, he knows it’s time for a water break.
We never stop for longer than a few minutes or the mosquitoes become unbearable.
We usually make camp in the late afternoon or early evening, setting up our tents and enjoying a river bath before cooking a calorie-dense dinner. We tend to be in bed either right before or right after sunset.
Today, we descend 2000 ft over 6 miles, then we climb 4000 ft over 8 miles, then descend another 1000 ft to our camp spot at Lake Marjorie. Our biggest day yet. And we just passed the 100 mile mark! This is officially the longest hike I’ve been on, both in distance covered and number of days on the trail (100 miles over 7 days was my previous record).
My legs are still tired from covering two passes yesterday, so I listen to classic rock all day to keep me pumped up. I think about fun karaoke songs to sing, my next tattoo, a hiking photo shoot I’m booked to model for, my upcoming Harry Potter marathon this Fall… anything to keep my mind off how much my legs burn with each step. Pinchot Pass is the pass of steep steps. Not great for my sore muscles or joints.
My shoes are starting to fall apart a bit, and I get my first blister of the trip. Before bed, I arrange for shoes to be mailed to Mono Hot Springs for my arrival several days from now.
Day 11
August 15th, 2019
14 miles
My legs are getting stronger by the day. Uphill still feels like chronic fatigue, but it is slowly getting easier. NOBO hiking the JMT means long uphill approaches to go over each pass. Multiple miles of uphill, steep downhill. Pretty brutal.
Today is the last pass we know from previous hikes, and tomorrow we will pass the La Conte area where we entered last year over Bishop Pass (a side trail). Then it will be all new, which is really exciting. Of course, traversing this terrain from the opposite direction has been rediscovery as well, but it will be an adventure to see all new places.
We still have a zero banked now, and tomorrow we will bypass our planned La Conte stop and stage for Muir Pass, the last one with snow, or so we hear.
Going over snow seems easy when you see the photos with snowy footsteps, but the melt makes it a bit dicey. The risk of punching through the snow to the big boulders below is very real and could lead to a serious, hike-ending injury. I scarcely breathe as I go over the snow or boulder around it. It’s great experience for me, but it’s mentally and physically exhausting.
Also, I’ve decided something. If zombies ever roam the earth, it will probably be a mosquito-borne rage virus. They are just like zombies in so many ways when you really think about it…
… They mindlessly go after any bit of flesh they can reach.
… Their bite transmits diseases and causes rage behavior.
… You have to constantly run to keep ahead of them, never stopping lest they catch up.
… No matter how many you take out, there are always more.
Also, mosquitoes congregate at lower altitudes where the landscape is damp, wind-sheltered and shaded. I’ve started likening these places to cities overrun by hordes of zombies. You can’t outrun them because they’re coming at you constantly from all directions. It’s maddening. You hike as fast as you can, smothered in Deet, but it’s never quite enough to keep them away. You just have to get out of there as quick as you can. High winds, spray or donning your full rain shell (gortex jacket and pants) plus a head net are your only real defenses.
Clearly I’ve given this some thought.
Today is HP’s birthday, so we celebrate with bourbon, candy orange slices and a cinnamon apple crisp dessert in one of the most beautiful camp spots I’ve ever experienced. I dive into the icy, refreshing waters of an alpine lake and come away with my body numb. I lay out on a rock near camp and let the sun warm my skin.
Every breath, every sun ray, every kiss of wind on my bare skin… I am overwhelmed with waves of gratitude for this moment, this life I am so blessed to be living. My soul soars with the energy of everything around and within me. I sleep with my tent doors open so the breeze can caress my face and hair as I sleep.
